


a drop in the ocean

by fyrefalcon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Post-Time Skip, Tenderness, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24935350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyrefalcon/pseuds/fyrefalcon
Summary: She could love this man; some part of her already loved him.He curled his fingers around her wrist. “Join me.” It wasn’t a question—but it also wasn’t a command. An entreaty.She relented.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 162





	a drop in the ocean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beastprince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastprince/gifts).



> Happy, happy birthday, ray! Here is some dimileth for you like I've been promising for probably six months already. Hope you enjoy.

Byleth closed the door to her old room behind her, thankfully well-preserved except for a fine layer of dust that had settled over everything like a shroud. 

She swept a gloved finger across the surface of her desk and examined the brown-gray smudge it left behind. It certainly didn’t seem to be five years’ worth of accumulation—she supposed she should thank Cyril, or perhaps even Seteth, for the consideration. 

But she’d do that tomorrow. She was grateful that this day was over, that nothing else remained between her and sleep. 

Despite having just awoken from five years’ of rest, her bones ached to sink into her old bed. She certainly didn’t _feel_ as though she’d been asleep for five years. All she remembered was the sense of falling, falling, falling and regret—and then shaking herself awake in front of the concerned eyes of someone from the town below. 

The five years that had passed without her memory hadn’t even been the strangest part of her life, and as such, she let it pass, adding it to the ever-growing pile of unsolved mysteries with her at their center.

On her way to her bed, her old mirror caught the corner of her eye, and she approached it, curious. Examining her face, it seemed as though it had not changed at all. 

Was it because she had been sleeping? She fluffed her green bangs, not even overlong after her rest. Or was it because she’d fused with Sothis?

She sighed. The one person who could even possibly answer her question—Rhea—was nowhere to be found.

Belatedly, she noticed that her pot of eyeliner kohl had been left open; the paste inside had dried and crumbled. A bad habit, made worse by the fact that she’d unexpectedly walked out of her own life five years ago. All things considered, a small loss. 

She was inspecting her face for any sign of aging like those she’d noticed on the others—a wrinkle in her brow, perhaps, or more angular cheekbones—when she was startled by a thump against her door. 

Unlocking the old latch with one hand, she placed the other hand on her dagger as she slowly swung the door open to assess the origin of the noise.

Dmitri stood there, silently hulking in the frame of her door. While she couldn’t remember the five years that had passed, she could readily remember the easy charm of his younger self, how he had a way of catching her off her guard with his unexpected sweetness and clear-sightedness. 

It was his kindness that had always endeared him to her. Out of all of her students, the five years she’d slept had changed him the most. 

“Good evening, Dmitri. Is there something you wanted?”

He shook his head, almost imperceptibly. 

“Would you like to come inside?” 

A slight nod. 

Her mind flicked back to their earlier conversation. She shivered, recalling his unknowing gaze as he’d wondered out loud if she might be an enemy, and felt again the frisson of fear as he’d confronted her directly. It was hard to say if he was of right mind, or if he was so tortured by his visions that he was a threat to her, even now.

Against most of her former students—hell, most of the Knights of Serios—she would give herself better than even odds. Dmitri, though, she wasn’t so certain.

“Is it safe for me to let you inside?” 

Again: a single, slight nod. 

Byleth decided to believe him. She took a step back, and he followed her into her room before pushing the door shut behind him. He slid slowly down it until he was crumpled in a heap, supported only by the strength of the wood at his back.

She squatted in front of him, trying to read his face. She couldn’t help the upswell of sadness and compassion she felt looking at the broken man in front of her. _Oh, Dmitri. What happened to you?_

He spoke quietly, muffled by the fur of his cloak. “The Dmitri you once knew would be horrified to be seen by you in this state, Professor.” 

She nodded. “How does the current Dmitri feel?”

“Weary.” He huffed out a sigh. “Angry. Alone.”

She reached out a hand, placing it on his shoulder. “You’re not alone, Dmitri. Not anymore.”

“Remains to be seen.” 

Her heart twisted to hear the pain in his voice. She nodded again. “I understand why you would feel that way.”

He looked up, finally meeting her gaze with his own, and she couldn’t help but reach out to caress his face, her fingers lingering of the smudge of dirt, or blood, that still lingered high on his cheekbone. 

“Yes. I’m filthy. Through to the core.” 

“Don’t say that.” She thumbed the smudge. “I don’t believe that’s true, not for a second.”

“Hmph.” 

“No matter how imposing you may seem. I remember who you were, and I see how you are, and I believe there’s room for both of you in this world.” 

He didn’t smile at that, not exactly, but his frown lifted a degree.

“I could help you get cleaned up,” she offered. “If you want.” 

He hesitated. In retrospect, it seemed like a bold offer, but it was clear this man needed some caretaking. She didn’t regret the suggestion. 

He nodded, once. “I think that would be nice.” 

Standing, she held out her hand to him. He took it, and although he rose under his own power, she could tell he was a little wobbly on his feet. She curled her hand around his, maneuvering him out of the way of the door, and then led him around the corner and up the stairs to the bathhouse behind the sauna. 

Thankfully, it was quiet. Everyone save herself and now Dmitri was wisely already in bed.

She let herself into one of the private bath chambers between the students’ baths. The room was clean and stocked—again, she supposed Cyril deserved thanks for the foresight—and once Dmitri was inside, she closed and locked the door behind them. 

The chamber was nothing save a small grate for a fire, which Byleth lit with a quick wave of her hand; a large wooden tub, already half full with clean, cold water; and standard-issue bathing supplies, neatly lined along the shelf, with puffy white towels in a stack besides.

Dmitri stood there, unmoving, and Byleth turned to face him after heating the water in the tub with another quick spell and pouring in a dram of chamomile oil, which immediately began to fill the room with its calming, sweet-apple scent. 

When he didn't begin to undress himself, she asked, “Do you need help?”

He nodded. 

Byleth reached up, unclasping the heavy cloak from around his neck, quickly grabbing the furred monstrosity before it could slip to the floor. In Faerghus, she could understand the need for its heavy weight to guard against the cold. Here in Garreg Mach, the heat of his cloak must be stifling. 

She folded it and draped it over the bench before turning back to the prince. With a little bit of exploration, she was able to see how Dmitri’s armor was fastened, and she removed it piece by piece, with some small interventions from Dmitri, until his apparel was all discarded, and he stood nearly bare in front of her, his underthings leaving little to her imagination. 

Despite the fact that his brooding nature hadn’t lifted, Byleth had to appreciate the view in front of her. Dmitri’s once-elegant frame had thickened with muscle and anger and war, and despite the fact that his dark mood cascaded off of him in waves, as a physical specimen, the prince was…arresting. 

While the Dmitri she’d known had hovered between the softness of youth and the authority of his inherited position, there was no question that the person who stood in front of her was a man. 

“Do you need help getting in?” she asked, trying to signal that she wasn’t going to undress him any further, even as she considered what it would be like to follow that urge, to slide his underclothes down and draw him into her. To allow herself to be overcome by his wildness.

He shook his head, shucking his linens where he stood and easily lifting himself over the lip of the basin and into the warm water. Byleth looked at his discarded underwear and shook her head, trying to remind herself that she wasn’t here to be aroused. 

The prince sighed, relaxing into the water, making the first near-human sound she’d heard from him all day. Grabbing a bar of soap, hair tonic, and a cloth, she met him at the side of the tub, first wetting the fabric and Dmitri’s face with the bathwater and then sudsing up the cloth to remove the lingering signs of battle and despair from his skin.

She scrubbed gently, working along the lines of his neck and around the leather bindings securing the patch over his damaged eye. Once she was satisfied, she dunked the cloth into a bucket next to the bath, loath to sully the water with the dirt she’d removed, before refreshing the cloth and wiping off the vestiges of soap that remained. 

He sighed again, deeply, before dunking himself underwater entirely; when he surfaced, she soaped up her hands directly before working the lather through his hair. 

Dmitri made a sound of appreciation, and although she was sure it wasn’t intended to be sexual, it was so visceral that Byleth couldn’t stop herself from considering how it would feel to coax sounds of pleasure from the man whose scalp she was massaging.

Once again, he dunked himself under the water, shaking his matted hair back before sinking back down into the water past his shoulders. 

Byleth reached forward, placing her hand on his broad shoulder, and asked, “Are you doing all right, Dmitri?”

“Better than I have in a long while,” he said, softly enough that she had to bend forward to catch his response.

“Good.”

She worked some hair tonic through her fingers. After tilting his head back toward her, she used it to smooth Dmitri’s long hair, detangling it with her fingers before sliding a wooden comb from his crown down to the ends, trying to remain focused on her caretaking and push aside the warmth that was building through her belly as she cared for the man in front of her. 

Once she’d brushed his hair back from his crown, he turned to face her, his face several degrees more relaxed than it had been earlier. 

“And how do you feel now, Dmitri?”

His face softened. “Clean. Grateful.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

He was quiet for a moment, searching her face. “Join me.” 

Her chest seized, nervousness and desire commingling. “In the bath?”

He nodded, once. “I want to thank you.”

Byleth considered. He looked lucid, more like the Dmitri she knew, and she hovered between options, noticing both her own eagerness and prudent caution. She was no longer his teacher. There was no ethical quandary here, but she also couldn’t say what was right, although she definitely knew what she wanted.

“Please. Byleth.” He reached out a hand, and she could see the damp on his skin reflect the warmth of the firelight. “I thought I had lost you. You have been dead to me these five long years, and now, unlike the rest of the phantoms who have haunted me without quarter…you alone have returned.”

Again, her heart wrenched. She reached out, cupping his face with her hand, watching as his face shifted to some semblance of openness. It was not hard to see the sea of grief he held within, roiling just below the surface. She could love this man; some part of her already loved him.

He curled his fingers around her wrist. “Join me.” It wasn’t a question—but it also wasn’t a command. An entreaty. 

She relented. Softly, she drew her hand away, unfastening her collar. She dropped it to the floor while he watched. Next, her gauntlets. The firelight danced, reflected in the dull metal. Then, her dagger.

She could scarcely breathe. Dmitri’s good eye was riveted on her as she undressed in front of him.

The pile of armor on the floor grew until she was left in her corset and her shorts.

Watching him intently, she reached around and unfastened the bindings, loosening her top before sliding it too to the floor. She watched him as he took in her bare breasts, her nipples already stiffened to peaks, knowing that her figure was something to be proud of, but still eager to see appreciation in return. 

He returned his gaze to her face. “Byleth—you’re…you’re beautiful.” 

She could feel her face flush. 

She held his gaze for a moment longer before slipping her shorts and her tights down her legs in a single motion, now bare in front of him, and setting them aside. Exposed. She stood there for a moment, allowing him to take her in, before he reached forward, placing his hands around her waist and helping her over the wall of the tub and into the warm water. 

He slid close to her, using her hips to draw himself near. Through the ripple of water, she could see he was already fully erect, and as he nestled himself against her, slick to the touch from the oils in the bathwater, his cock pressed into her thigh, entreating. 

“Are you sure about this, Dmitri?” she asked. “This truly wasn’t my intention—” She sighed. “I was your teacher, after all.” 

“Byleth.” His face was just inches from hers, and she could feel his hands as they roamed over her skin, creating heat where they caressed, building tension lower, too. “I have loved you from the moment I saw you.”

She sighed again, pressing her lips into his forehead, recognizing the answering call in her own heart. She loved him too, or at least, had loved him before—she knew it now, whether or not she’d allowed herself to recognize it then.

“You were never just my professor. You were my _everything_.” He squeezed his eyes tight, holding in his sadness. "And then you were gone."

“I’m so, so sorry.” Her chest ached, knowing how much he’d hurt in her absence, and she pulled her lips away from his forehead, finding his lips, now allowing herself to show him that she was _here_ , that she was real. 

He responded to her with intensity, taking her mouth, taking her hips in his hands, unfurling around her. "You're here now—and I, I need you. I need you, Byleth." His grip was punishing and possessive, and his tongue swept through her mouth, insistent. What his touch was lacking in tenderness was buoyed by heat and fire and passion. 

He leaned back into the water, guiding her against him. He coaxed her closer; she spread her legs to allow him to press himself flush against her, feeling the way they moved together in the water, her weight supported by his hands. 

He broke the kiss, pulling back to watch her as he moved against her, gazing at her face intently as he pulled the core of her close until he’d sheathed himself within her, sliding her down to the hilt with a cry that echoed how she felt. 

The sensation was indescribable, rich and hot and _satisfying,_ and she heard the involuntary sound of need that escaped her echo against the walls of the small room, grateful that the others were asleep and there was no one to overhear them.

It would be hard to explain this away as anything other than what it was.

“Fuck, Byleth—how do you feel so good?” he asked as he started to move within her. “Never in my dreams—never. Never imagined— _fuck_.”

His narration disintegrated until the only sounds he was making were breathy pants, full of eagerness and need; they moved together, finding friction in the most satisfying ways. The warmth of the water against Byleth’s skin was soothing as the heat built within her, and she put her hands on his shoulders, bracing against him as she ground into him in return, seeking her release. 

Dmitri threw his head back, exposing the column of his neck; it was built and beautiful, and Byleth traced his throat with her mouth, allowing herself to mark him. She was both possessed and possessor—if she were his, she would take him in return. 

He thrust into her, his pace quickening, and she found purchase in the flesh of his shoulder, biting into him, urging him, whispering “faster—fuck me, yes, yes” in his ear. His response was wild, and feral, less a statement than a feeling made into sound, and he groaned, achingly, as they rocked together, his cadence loosening as every muscle in his body pulled taught, heralding his release. 

She rocked against him, arching her back, and he bent down, taking her nipple in his teeth—the pressure and pain and sensation laced through her body like a live wire. She crested and came, calling his name into the small room as her vision clouded. 

He pumped into her, releasing her nipple, and she could feel the vibrations of his punishing thrusts in her bones as she pulsed around his cock, the pleasure crashing over her in waves as he stroked himself through her orgasm.

“Fuck yes, Byleth. Come on my cock, come, come for me…” With a groan, Dmitri joined her, pulling her hips against him again, his grip tight enough to bruise. She felt him tense and watched him come, his face bracing against the pleasure and then relenting as his release registered, relaxing him in a way she wagered he’d not felt for years, if ever before. 

“Oh, Dmitri,” Byleth breathed, tracing his hair back behind his ear as he shuddered in pleasure, riding out the end of his own orgasm.

He laughed weakly, dropping his head against her clavicle, allowing himself to be heavy against her while they floated there together, still joined and equally sated. 

“I suppose I ought not call you Professor any longer, eh.” He laughed again. “Actually it doesn’t feel half as strange as I would have suspected, even here with me inside of you.” 

She laughed as well, still breathy, more grateful to sense some of the Dmitri she’d known in his response than she would have expected. Perhaps not all was lost, even if she knew this was nothing besides a break in a punishing storm, a single drop in an ocean of despair. The darkness that gripped him would not relent so easily. She knew the days to come would be hard, and harder still now that she knew so keenly her own feelings for this man.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Professor." He smiled shyly. "Byleth.” 

She smiled against his neck, feeling the weight of the day finally catching up to her; the heat and the release had made her incredibly sleepy. “Anytime, Dmitri.” She yawned. “Anytime.” 

“Ah yes, I suppose you must be exhausted.” With their bodies still linked, he stood up, moving them both out of the tub with the fluid grace of a fighter, and then gently resting Byleth against the bench before leaning down to allow her to release him, his half-stiff cock slipping out of her and leaving her emptier than before. 

“Thank you, Dmitri.” 

“It’s me who owes you gratitude,” he responded, sinking down to kiss her on the lips. “Ah, how many years I’ve imagined that. Nothing can compare.” 

He handed her a towel from the stack and she wrapped it around herself as he did the same. “Now, while I’ve still got my wits about me, let’s get you into bed.” 

In a single movement, he swept her up as though she were his bride, and she allowed him to carry her through the cool dark of the monastery until, unable to keep her eyes open a second longer, she sunk into the supreme comfort of her bed for the first mortal sleep she’d had in half a decade, the prince curled softly into her side. 

***


End file.
